


if it's torn, stitch it up

by orphan_account



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: 13 Going on 30 AU, Emotional Infidelity, F/M, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-19 10:35:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9436430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “Yes,” Link answers swiftly. “I need you to help me figure out my life.”Rhett actually lets out a laugh. It's short and over too soon, but it's enough to get Link’s heart worked up. “I can't do that,” Rhett tells him.“Why not?” Link asks, though, pout on his lips.“Link, we don't…I don't know you. We’re not friends anymore.”A 13 Going On 30 AU.





	

**Author's Note:**

> UH WOW. 
> 
> first of all thank you to all of the unbelievable love and support on my first r/l fic. i was so overwhelmed and happy. second of all, thank you to all the people who listened to me cry about this. i originally didn't want to do this because i didn't think i could do it justice, and i probably didn't but [shrugs] it's done now!
> 
> special thanks to jean for the beta and super support! thank you to izzy for helping me with the 90s research because i was literally 2 years old in 2000. and thank you to autumn for her tremendous help! ♥️
> 
> also, if you want to see info about the setting/time & extra tags, see the end notes please!! i mixed it All up a bit but that's why fiction is great isn't it.
> 
> for extra immersion, listen to:  
> if you ever want to be in love - james bay  
> sidekick - walk the moon  
> only love - ben howard
> 
> enjoy!!

Link hates the picture staring back at him. He wants to actually tear it up along with the duplicates in the envelope burning his hands.

If he weren't turning thirteen that day and small, he'd go back into the auditorium of the school and fight the man who'd taken his picture. “ _Link,"_ he'd been saying over and over. “My name is _Link_.” The elderly man only responded with, “Pink? Who on earth names their child Pink?” before snapping his photo.

The Link in the photo is in the middle of correcting the man once more, before he was shooed off without being given a second chance. Embarrassment floods Link’s body. He groans.

“Hey!” comes a familiar voice from behind him. Link’s bones are no longer tense and he turns around to see a tower of rambunctious teen hurdling towards him. The camera around Rhett’s neck digs into Link’s body when they collide. “Let me see your photos, man. Mine came out so well.”

Rhett flashes him his photos and _of course_ they're perfect. No acne is scattered across his face and the hint of a smile on his lips is enough to make any girl’s heart soar. At least that's what Link is sure of. Suddenly, he wonders why Leslie, the girl Rhett’s had his eye on, hasn't scooped him up yet. It's uncanny.

“At least one of us took a good one,” Link huffs. He tries not to look too downtrodden, but Rhett knows him too well and slings a comforting arm around his shoulder as they walk down the hall. Link’s body buzzes at this.

“Oh, come on. They can't be that bad, Link. Let me see,” Rhett tells him. It isn't a command; it's the farthest thing from it, but that doesn't stop Link from holding up the envelope he has without any reluctance.

Hearing Rhett swallow, the apples of Link’s cheeks swell with florid color and Rhett immediately begins to spew flustered words. “It's - it's not that bad, Link!” he tries to reassure him, and while it works slightly, Link is still slowly burying himself away in a box at the back of his mind. “They're...unique! They're different. No other kid has photos like them in the entire school, I bet.”

A smile tugs at Link’s lips and something else at his heartstrings. The appreciation he holds for his best friend is overpowering sometimes. “Thanks, Rhett,” he chimes fondly. “But I don't want to be different,” he tacks on. “Why can't I just be like everyone else?”

Rhett chuckles, locking Link’s head beneath his armpit and running his knuckles over the top of his head. “Because then I wouldn't like you as much,” he teases playfully. Link wrestles out of Rhett’s grip and smiles even wider at him.

“Ha, ha,” Link huffs, smile still on his lips. He stands before Rhett and tucks his thumbs underneath the straps of his backpack. Before he can stop him, Rhett is whipping out his camcorder, and Link flails to guard his face. It's too late, though.

“Ha!” Rhett says triumphantly. “Say hello, birthday boy!”

“You're the worst,” Link deadpans, but he lets Rhett record him. He takes a short moment to look and smile into the camera. Rhett asks how he's feeling, and he answers with, “Lame,” and sticks his tongue out at the camera.

Rhett titters off frame before he shuts off the camera and steps to Link’s side, wrapping his arm around his shoulder. Link melts into his best friend’s arms.

“Thank you,” Rhett tells him contently. They begin walking down the hall together, Link tucked under his arm, and nothing feels out of place.

When the school day concludes, the two of them walk home together, shoulders bumping. Link rambles on about what he plans to do now that he's a _teenager._  He plans on being know; he wants to be popular, and one of the cool kids. Even when Rhett tells him that he's cool enough the way he is, Link rolls his eyes and steps in front of him, stopping both of them in their tracks.

“Rhett,” Link begins determinedly, “the only people who know I exist are you, my mom, and my weird dog. I want to be _somebody_.”

“You're Link Neal,” Rhett tells him. Link shakes him by the shoulders.

“Yeah, but I want to be _Link Neal_ ,” he emphasizes. He knows Right might not understand, but Link longs to be remembered. He wanted to make heads turn and kiss a girl and grow up into the guy that people would look back on and say, “Hey, remember Link Neal? That guy was amazing.” The current him isn't enough. He's thirteen and it’s time to start growing into something new, into something great, into -

“Gregg.”

“Gregg?” Rhett ponders, his face scrunching in distaste.

“Yes! I want to be like Gregg,” Link sighs, almost dreamily, and he can tell Rhett wants to just shut him up and talk about something on Nickelodeon. “Listen, Rhett. Do you understand how _cool_ Gregg and the guys are? And! They're coming to _my_ birthday party! Did I tell you he's bringing Christy? Just for me?”

“Gregg is a total square,” Rhett huffs. He stuffs his hands into his pockets and kicks at the pavement. Eyes averted down, he lets out an exasperated breath. “Don't know why we can't just hang and watch Full House reruns or something.”

“Because that's not cool,” Link chirps simply. Rhett doesn't say anything else and the twinge of guilt in Link’s gut forces him to link their arms. They walk home like that for the rest of the way. When they're standing between their homes, Link turns to Rhett again. “Seven o'clock,” he reminds him.

Rhett smiles faintly, nodding. “Seven o'clock.”

With that, they part, giving each other their signature handshake (Link had patented it in third grade; it was random, one leg lifted in the air as they did so, but it was theirs). Link doesn't give himself the chance to falter before rushing to his basement to set things up. Excitement sweeps over his body and he can't _wait_ to have new friends over. Up until then, all he had was Rhett, and something inside of him was telling him it just wasn’t enough.

If he became friends with Gregg, then - then his entire life would change. Gregg is a cool kid; he practically beams with popularity and suave. He's neon jackets and spiked hair. He's a few years older than Rhett and Link, but he got pulled back a grade or two. For some odd reason, Link finds it admirable.

When the basement is done and decorated, Link stands back to relish in his hard work. Cups of punch are neatly organized on the table along with a bowl of cheese puffs and Doritos.

Link makes sure everything is absolutely perfect. He has his television hooked up to his brand new PlayStation 2, just in case that's something Gregg and his gang find pretty cool. There are two bean bag chairs (both etched with Rhett and Link’s names, something Sue had so kindly done) in the center of the room, in front of the TV. This, down in the basement, was their own, and it felt like a different side of home inside of his actual house. He kicks the bean bags away to the side of the room.

Sighing with approval, Link falls onto his respective bean bag chair, and waits. He takes a moment to relax before he hears the stairs creaking, and his head turns so quickly to see who the intruder is, but it's only Rhett.

“Oh my god, Rhett,” Link says, scrambling to his feet. He hears Rhett giggle and his cheeks tingle slightly under a veil of embarrassment.

“I got you again,” brags Rhett. He's holding a box as he descends the stairs. It's just a box and it's wrapped neatly in a bow. Link _knows_ that Rhett can't tie bows, but this one is perfect, and he wonders briefly if Rhett had struggled with tying the perfect bow just for him. 

“You did not. I wasn't even scared,” Link lies.

All Rhett does is chuckle and he looks for his chair before spotting it at the side of the room. His brow furrows, but he doesn't saying anything as he trots to sit down on it. “Come here, look at your gift,” he says, patting Link’s bean bag.

A smile crawls across Link’s face and he plops down next to his best friend. “What is it? New games for the PlayStation?” he asks. Rhett shakes his head.

“No, uh,” he starts timidly. He almost seems nervous, but Link doesn't think much of it. “This is only the first part of your gift, by the way. But, this, uh…I made it.”

Link cooes. “Bo,” he says and takes the box from him. When he takes off the bow, he realizes it's just a DVD box. Upon opening it, he sees “ _Something Great_ ” written on the actual disc. 

“Rhett,” he says then, and all Rhett does is take the disc to pop it into his VCR/DVD player, which both of them were still getting used to.

Rhett is the first thing on screen. He looks sheepish and Link can't help but smile as he watches on.

“Happy birthday, Bo!” On-screen Rhett shouts happily. “I'm making this because you are very hard to please.”

Link shoots playful daggers at Rhett, who is watching him intently, before averting his attention back to the television.

“Thank you for being my best friend, and enjoy!”

It switches to a video of Link; he's riding his bike and he momentarily does it without holding the handles bars. Link can hear Rhett cheering off camera. From there, it moves to different videos of him, or him and Rhett, and some of them Link doesn't remember. He thinks Rhett must've taken them without his knowledge, because the Link on camera is either deeply enraptured in thought or paying too close attention to something to care about the camera. Link flushes when he sees that Rhett caught him dancing to _Bye Bye Bye_ by *NSYNC and groans.

However, the entire video makes Link’s heart swell. He doesn't know what to say, honestly, but he doesn't have to when the clip of Link from that comes on the screen.

“You're the worst,” he says, looking at the camera with a sarcastic smile.

“How are you feeling?”

“ _Lame_.”

The two of them laugh on screen, and it cuts to black. Before Link can speak, Rhett is back on screen. It's from that day, again.

“Well, lame Link,” he says to the camera. “You may think you're not cool, but we can be not cool together. And I think that's kind of, well, _cool_. And we're going to be cool-not-cool together, forever, doing something great. I promise. Here's to the beginning of growing up, Neal. Love you, Bo, and happy thirteenth birthday!”

The video officially ends. The collection of memories plays back in Link’s brain, over and over and over.

He has never been at a loss for words before. He's so incredibly touched by Rhett’s gift. He thinks he might cry if crying wasn't so _un_ cool. Instead, he opts for hugging Rhett close and grinning into his shirt. When he pulls back, Link drags his hands across Rhett’s arms and feels the scattered bumps that had arose on his skin. He doesn't take note of it. “Thank you, so much, Rhett. I love - ”

The doorbell chimes. It cuts Link off abruptly, but his heart jolts in his chest and he flails in excitement as he struggles to get up from the bean bag. “They're here! Uh, I'm just - I'm gonna put this away. Put on some music or something, okay?” he orders, ejecting the DVD and stuffing it into the box, which he chucks into the open closet. He bounds upstairs, two steps at a time.

Running a hand through his hair, Link flings the door open and is immediately greeted by not one, but _six_ people. Gregg is there, of course, but so is the rest of his gang and - _Christy is there_. Link almost rockets out of his shoes.

“Hey!” he yips, voice cracking. He clears his throat, and deepens his voice. “Hey, I mean. Uh. The party is downstairs.”

The group doesn't say a word as they shuffle inside the house. The closest thing he gets to a “hey” is a nod from Gregg, and, honestly, he'll take it.

“So,” Gregg finally speaks and turns to Link, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Where's the party?” He's terse, but Link doesn't pick up on his nonchalance as he grins at him.

“Downstairs,” he responds. The rest of the group doesn't speak a work before marching down the stairs together, without Gregg.

“Hey, so listen,” Gregg starts and Links does so intently. He doesn't see the devil in his eyes or the smirk on his lips. “So, Christy is here,” he says and _duh_. She was the first person Link noticed and all he can do is nod along. “And she would totally dig it if you brought some of your parents’ good stuff downstairs.”

“Good stuff?” Link says innocently.

Gregg laughs, and Link tries his best not to flush. “You know, liquor. Beer. _Good_ stuff.”

Link opens his mouth to respond, but he hears a familiar voice from the top of the basement stairs and he looks to see Rhett, disdain etched on his face. 

“Hey, come on,” Rhett pipes. “He's got punch down here. He can't get you _liquor_.”

“Oh, hush up, Brett. It's not your birthday party, is it?” Gregg says, crossing his arms. Link notices Rhett straighten up, his body stiffening as if he's about to step forward, and before he can let his friend get worked up, Link steps aside.

“Come on, Rhett,” Link whispers to him and grabs his wrist. “We’ll be back. You can go down there and do whatever,” he tells his newfound friend before hauling Rhett into the kitchen.

As soon as they step onto the linoleum floor, Link pleads, “Please, Rhett,” and begins rummaging around for his step-dad’s abundance of alcohol. “Just let me do this. You don't have to drink if you don't want to, but these guys are my friends now.”

“ _What?_ ” Rhett challenges. His face contorts into something that Link thinks might be hurt, but he can't tell. They've never butted heads like this before, especially not after sharing such a heartwarming moment together. “These guys wouldn't even be here if you didn't have beer.”

“Rhett, shut up. They wouldn't have even known I’d have alcohol!” Link says knowingly. His chest hurts a little, the taste of telling Rhett to _shut up_ sickening on his tongue.

Rhett goes to speak, his mouth opening for a moment before he huffs, and closes it. “Fine,” he says. “I'm going to go get my Gibson.”

With this, Rhett stomps off. Link’s heart sinks, but a sinister part of his mind tells him he doesn't need one friend if he has six more downstairs. Deep down, he doesn't know where any of this is coming from when they were so happy together just ten minutes ago. Brushing it off, he lugs two cases of beer down to the others. A Mariah Carey song is playing on the stereo and the girls Gregg brought are singing along happily. The other boys’ eyes light up when they see the beer in Link’s arms.

“My dude!” Gregg cheers and shoves a handful of cheese puffs into his mouth. He seems much happier now. Link doesn't think it odd. “Look who actually came through. We underestimated you, Neal.”

Bones swelling with pride, Link smiles and sets the beer down. He opens the first case and passes them around. They all crack into their cans, but Link is standing there nervously with his own in his hand. 

At any other time, Link would have turned to Rhett with a look that begged him for help, or reassurance that he could do whatever he wanted to. Link is on his own now, though. He doesn't particularly enjoy the knot that forms in his stomach at the thought.

“Aw, he's never had a beer before,” Will, another boy, coos condescendingly. Link heats up, trying not to let embarrassment cause his cheeks to flare.

“It's not going to kill you, man,” Gregg tells him.

Link puts too much trust into the group, and opens his beer. With a heavy intake of breath, he sips the beer into his mouth. It's _disgusting._  He doesn't know how anyone can like this stuff, and his face scrunches up in disgust.

The lot throw their heads back in laughter at the poor kid, and Link takes the opportunity to spit the beer into the nearest trash bin. The beer leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He wants to brush his teeth. 

Setting down the beer can, Link wipes his sweaty palms on his thighs and sighs. “So, what do you guys want to do?” he asks, voice small, and it seems that any confidence he once had is lost. 

“Hm,” one of the girls that isn't Christy hums, “why don't we play a game?” Her eyes are filled with mirth. It makes Link’s gut wrench.

His mind buzzes as it searches for something to say. “Oh, I've got Monopoly!” he chimes. The group laughs again.

Then Christy shakes her head. “We were think of something more…risqué.”

“Oh!” Link says suddenly. “Like, uh. Um. Like seven seconds in heaven?” he suggests confidently. He knows the game, and knows that his heart might explode at the thought.

Once more, the group bursts with heavy laughter and Link does all he can to convince himself that they're laughing with him, not at him.

“Yeah, sure, dude,” Gregg says and looks for around the room for something before settling with a random cloth. “Although seven minutes would be a _lot_ better. Birthday boy first, right?”

Link is _actually_ going to lose it. Yesterday, he was just a nerdy kid with one friend. Now he was going to play a _teenage_ game and probably have his first kiss.

In a flurry, Link is being blindfolded and the girls are giggling. They lead Link into the small closet. It smells musty and Link is sure there are spiders somewhere, but he doesn't quite care. He's making the transition from a nobody to _somebody_ , and he can't wait.

“Now, wait here,” Gregg’s voice comes as Link slides down the wall of the closet to his butt. “I think you know exactly who we're sending in first,” he adds in a whisper. “She likes it when you go for second base.”

Link heats up. “Okay,” he murmurs timidly. The door shuts and the only source of light he has is the beam of the weak bulb seeping through his blindfold. He waits patiently.

Outside, he hears more titters and laughs. _I'm going to have my first kiss_ , he thinks to himself. Every ounce of doubt he has battles with his desire to believe that this isn't too good to be true.

The giggles die down after a few moments and he hears footsteps. He's anticipating Christy’s arrival so much.

He tells himself so many things to boost his confidence, the smile on his face unwavering until, what feels like years later, the door finally opens. Light pours in.

“Hello?” he says gently.

“Link.” It's Rhett.

Link tears off his blindfold and looks up to see a sullen Rhett and an empty basement. Shooting to his feet, he pushes past Rhett and his heart sinks.

His bowl of cheese puffs is gone, along with the cases of beer and his new…friends.

“What did you do?” Link snaps. He turns to Rhett, fury and hurt twinkling in his eyes. His voice cracks as he speaks.

“Me?” Rhett scoffs. He sets down the guitar he brought and his sympathy turns into hurt and he just groans. “Link, come on! I didn't do anything! Can you just forget them? They aren't worth your time.”

“They were my friends, and you probably ran them off! Why can't I have anything good?” Link asks Rhett. The pain on Rhett’s face deepens.

“You have me,” Rhett reminds him sadly.

“It's not enough! I want to be popular, I want to be cool and have friends and - why doesn't anyone like me?”

Link breaks. Blood is rushing in his ears and his eyes become damp. There's a rebuttal behind Rhett’s face. Link can tell he wants to call him dumb and naive, but instead, Rhett grabs the guitar he'd just brought over.

“Just - Link. Let me show you what I wrote for you. The second part of your gift. You'll feel better,” he says gently.

Link wants to scream. Before he does, he groans and throws himself back into the closet. He slams the door shut and locks it, sliding back down against the shelves as his eyes brim with tears.

“Link!” Rhett calls from the other side of the door. “Link, let me in!”

Link is so frustrated. He hates this. He hates all of it.

He hears Rhett huffing before a few out of tune chords begin to play. Memories flood in, and a tear trails down Link’s cheek. He remembers Rhett first getting his guitar, beaming about how he was going to learn so much. 

He never really did. Schoolwork and keeping straight A’s was drowning him, but Link kept faith in his best friend. “I'm going to be so good, just wait,” Rhett had told him so proudly one afternoon in their basement. He'd been plucking at the same, messed up chords for hours. Link listened on though. Until then, Link can’t recall Rhett actually learning a song.

On the other side of the door, though, Link can hear notes actually being played together, and forming something great. A voice is added to the mix. As much as he wants to open the door and hug his best friend, the sizzling resentment in his chest is too strong, and Link can't take it.

“I don't want to hear your stupid song!” Link finally shouts and pulls his knees up to his chest, burying his face between the two mounds. “I hate you! I hate everyone! I hate myself!”

The guitar has stopped, and Link cries.

To him, thirteen was the beginning of growing up, a staple of moving on from a kid to something _more_. If this was his first day, what would the rest be like? Link didn't want to find out. He wanted to skip it all; he wanted to dodge the ache and pain of growing up. He doesn't want to live through the days he'd one day look back at and think, _I wish they'd been different._

Rhett had once laughed at Link as they watched Full House together. “That's going to be you one day,” he'd told him, comparing him to Danny Tanner. Link didn't want that, but he knew Rhett wasn't lying. He wants to grow up, prove everyone wrong, and be something different.

Curling into himself, Link sobs, and wishes for something else before drifting off to sleep in the confines of the closet.

 

* * *

 

The next time Link opens his eyes, it's way too bright. He doesn't feel the draft of the closet he was in and his head is pounding. He _can't_ be hungover. He spit out the beer! But he feels woozy and as he goes to move, he falls out of the - bed? - he's in.

Confusion crashes over him and he distinctly remembers falling asleep in a musty closet. He wonders if his mother found him in the closet crying and carried him upstairs before whisking off to plan his life long punishment for the disappearance of the beer.

But - his face is planted against hardwood floor. He has carpets. He groans and it…sounds different. Stumbling to his feet on legs he doesn't quite know how to control, Link finally opens his eyes and is met by unfamiliar surroundings. He feels like Bambi. 

“Mom?” he calls and opens a door that leads out to a hallway. Poking his head out, he looks back and forth. This isn't his home. Outside, he hears the hustle of cars and horns. If he's not in the suburbs of the greater Ventura County, then where is he?

“Mom!” he calls again, stepping out. Goosebumps cascade across his skin as he feels a chill on his bare body.

Link steps carefully. The wood floors creak and he walks into what he assumes is the living room of the _apartment_ he's in.

“What the…” he trails off and passes a mirror on the wall. He seems a blur of himself, but then does a double take, and actually _screams._

Staring back at him is not the face of a thirteen year old boy. Instead, there is stubble and a sharp jaw line and _glasses_. He sees sunken eyes with faint bags underneath them, the blue in them dull but somehow still full of life. His hair is messy, but styled back and Link feels sick.

Link looks down and sees the body of a grown man; there's hair on his chest and a _bulge_ in his pajama pants. His legs seem a thousand miles longer. He looks back into the mirror.

Lifting a hand to his face, Link gasps when his fingers register the feeling. It's real. But it has to be a sick dream. He's asleep in a closet right now and he's going to wake up and open the door to Rhett and - _Rhett._

His mind is racing at a thousand miles per hour and he rushes to find a phone somewhere. He doesn't, though.

“Where is my landline?” Link musters desperately, and a hand flies to his throat. His voice is so deep. Everything is so different.

Finally, he sees a slick and silver rectangle next to mail with his name on the coffee table in the living room. He picks it up is confused at the lack of buttons. “What is this?” He whispers. He presses the only button that's there with his index finger. 

 _Touch ID or Enter Passcode_ the screen tells him.

Tentatively, Link tries his thumb, and the phone shifts to a different screen filled with different bubbles and different icons. “I don't - ”

Link’s stomach churns and he feels as if he's going to gag. He grabs the nearest trash bin and holds it close, phone still in his hand. All he does is dry heave though, the glasses on his face slumping down.

He attempts to take them off, but his vision goes blurry and his head pounds, prompting him to quickly put them back on.

He spends a good moment trying to figure out what the do with this phone before he finally finds a file titled “Contacts” and shuffles through so many - too many - names until he finds the one he's looking for. 

He dials, and the phone rings before a voice finally comes through. “Hello!” his mother’s voice greets happily, southern drawl still thick as ever despite their new life in California.

“Mom!” Link calls, heart racing, but -

“If you're trying to reach me or Rick, good luck! We're in Paris! We’ll return all messages when we’re back. Au Revoir!”

The phone beeps, and Link scoffs. “You went to Paris without me?” he whispers incredulously before, “Who's _Rick?_ ”

He hangs up. The room is spinning. For a brief moment, Link thinks Y2K came late and this is his own personal hell, stuck in an unknown apartment with unknown gadgets, not knowing what to do.

Suddenly, Link hears a shower running and he jumps up. He grabs the first thing he can get his hands on, which just happens to be a lone nine iron. Since when did he _golf._  

“Link,” comes a voice. He jumps and goes into a defensive stance. “Link, babe, you're out of shampoo!”

“Who's there!” Link calls, voice betraying him as it wavers and cracks. “I'll call the cops! I - I know how to fight!”

What he hears in response is boisterous laughter. It's clearly a man’s and Link knows he absolutely does not know how to fight, but he thinks if he flails the club enough, he might be able to ward off this intruder. 

“Babe, you and I both know you can't fight,” the intruder says and suddenly someone is stepping out from the bathroom at the end of the hall. He's a tall, lean guy with a towel around his waist.

“Oh my god,” Link chokes. “You're _naked_!”

“Spot on,” the man says sarcastically. Link has dropped the club to cover his eyes. If he's going to die, he's going to die with pure eyes. The only guy he's seen naked was Rhett and that was when they were _seven_ and their parents had them bathe together. “Now come and join me, sweet cheeks. We're both a little dirty after last night.”

“I'm - no, I can't,” Link sputters, looking for an escape, and it comes in the form of a telephone ringing. It's the magic box again and he quickly scrambles to get it.

The name _Gregg_ pops up and Link is so confused, but the naked man is coming closer, so he grabs a blazer on the back of his arm chair. He ignores the calls of the naked man as he slips on a pair of Vans by the door before he darts out of there.

Slipping on his blazer, Link takes an elevator to the bottom level of whatever building he's in. He escapes into the real world and wants to gag again when he realizes he has no idea where he is. He recognizes the rush of Downtown Los Angeles, but it's not the suburbs of Thousand Oaks. He's about to start running when he hears his name being called. 

“Lincoln, please, get over here,” the voice hisses and he looks to see another man standing near an open car door. He's on the phone and he seems so frustrated.

“What?” Link croaks. His voice is small, just like it was on the night of his thirteenth birthday party. He wishes Rhett was here to soothe him, but when he hears the voice of the naked man hollering from a window, he climbs into the open car without another thought.

“Thank you,” the man huffs, climbing in besides him as he grumbles about Link’s choice of pajama pants and a blazer. He rambles on the phone about a party and he mentions his name once, and Link figures out that this is _Gregg_ , the same Gregg from way back when. The one that stole his beer and crushed his dreams. Link wants to be furious, but he's too tired to care any further.

His head pounds, and he slumps into the car seat, waiting wholeheartedly to wake up from this nightmare.

 

* * *

 

“Link’s a bit _hungover_ ,” Gregg is whispering to people sitting around a table. The others give off groans of sympathy.

Link has his head on the desk and his hands on the back of his neck. He knows he looks a mess, out of place and flustered. But he isn't hungover. There's absolutely no way.

Although, it would explain why he let Gregg drag him into a building with an NBC Studios sign outside. It would explain why he so easily sat down into a chair next to him in a board room while Gregg tried to rapidly remind him what the meeting was about.

He'd heard something about “can't let this tank,” and, “convince Richard that the finale will be great,” and, “can't let those fuckwits at ABC one up them again.” The rest was garble.

As Link finally lifts his head to soak in his surroundings, a young girl with long blonde hair comes to his side with a cup of coffee.

“Hello, sir,” she says nervously. “I've left your messages for the morning on your desk. Here's your coffee. And, uh, Richard is going to ask you about the first draft of the finale script. Is there anything else you need?”

Link looks up at who he assumes to be assistant. She's pretty, and mousy, but her eyes hold a bit of fear and he hopes it's not for him. 

“Uh,” he says, swallowing thickly. “Yes. I need you to - to find someone for me,” he says and takes Gregg’s pen to write down on a notepad in front of him.

_Rhett McLaughlin_

_Thousand Oaks, California_

_626-890-4321_

“Who's - ” the assistant starts, but quickly bites her tongue. She looks scared.

“Thank you,” is all Link says before she leaves and in comes a man in a suit. He doesn't look very pleased. Link lies his head back down on the table, and sighs.

The meeting is long and boring and Link doesn't catch much besides talk about the party that night. It's important, a make or break kind of thing, apparently, and for some reason, it lies all on Link’s shoulders. Well, and Gregg’s, but he hasn't been much of a help yet, anyway. There's also talk of a script and a sitcom season finale, but Link doesn't know what anything means. He was just about to finish the seventh grade the day before, and now he's all on his own.

When they're dismissed, Link walks around aimlessly until he sees the same mousy girl sitting in a cubicle across from a room. He approaches the door carefully and sees _Charles Neal_ on a plaque. Beneath it, the words _Writer/Producer_ are engraved on it.

He looks to the mousy girl and sees her name plaque.

_Stevie Wynne Levine_

_Assistant_  

Link smiles faintly at the girl, Stevie, just as she looks up and straightens out. “Hello, Mr. Neal,” she says, unassured. “Oh! Um, I have the information you asked for. Do you want me to - ”

Link immediately perks up. He grabs her by the wrist and pulls her into his office. Flustered, Stevie straightens herself out as Link shuts the door. “You were looking for a Rhett McLaughlin?”

“Yes,” Link answers, a lump forming in his throat. Rhett’s been in the back of his mind all day and he needs, actually aches for, something to bring him closer to him.

“Well, um, the number you gave me was his parents’,” Stevie tells him, and Link’s heart sinks. Stevie must see it on his face, and continues with, “But! I told them I was with the IRS and he's in a _lot_ of trouble. He lives in Downtown LA, actually. Not Thousand Oaks.” She hands him a piece of paper.

A breath catches in Link’s throat and he can't help the smile that stretches across his face, and he hugs the poor confused girl tightly, thanking her over and over. Stevie seems taken aback by this.

“You're welcome?” she says, voice shy as if she's testing water with the tips of her toes. “Also, Mr. Neal, your mother called. But I'll just throw the message out again, if you’d like.”

Link finally pulls back, looking at her quizzically. “Why would you do that?” he asks her.

“Because…you told me to…” Stevie responds and she nearly winces. “Please don't fire me.”

“I - what? No, no, I wouldn't do that. I just - I forgot I said that. Next time she calls, tell me, please,” Link says pleadingly. Stevie agrees and she turns to leave before Link stops her. “Also, uh, please call me Link.”

The faintest hint of a smile shows on Stevie’s face before she dips out of the room, shutting the door behind her. When she's gone, Link finally gets the chance to look around at the office before him.

Everything is so _neat._ The photos of him with various people (they look like they have autographs) are aligned perfectly on the wall. His desk isn't cluttered and what look like stacks of scripts are placed precisely next to one another.

The office screams Link, and it's perfect to him. He just wishes he knew how he got here. As a kid, he wasn't big into show business. He knows he made little plays and skits with Rhett on various occasions with Rhett’s dainty camera, and they co-wrote most of them, but that was it. Rhett was always the one with the ideas and behind the camera. He never thought it would be something he'd go into for a career.

But, obviously, Link is pretty damn good at whatever he does. He goes around to his desk and sees a photo of him and the naked man perched at the perfect angle atop it. He furrows his brows and frowns when he remembers him. Who _was_ he and why did Link care enough to put photos of him on his desk?

The word _boyfriend_ comes to mind briefly and it makes Link’s stomach flip. He was certain he's straight, but, maybe not? The 90’s had gotten a bit wild, he knew that. Ellen Degeneres was a hip woman, and he had no problem with her, but _him?_  He sits, and thinks.

After a few breathing exercises, Link looks down at the paper Stevie had given him with curiosity. Rhett was in the palm of his hand and Link longed for him, longed for answers. So, without a second thought, he leaves the office. He has Stevie call the driver who'd dropped him off with Gregg and leaves. Rhett’s in Downtown LA. So close to his own place, but Link had never felt so far from him in his entire life.

 

* * *

 

The part of Downtown LA that Rhett lives in isn't like the part that Link lives in. His part is pristine and kept clean. Rhett’s is just...not. His apartment building has a buzzer and Link isn't used to seeing those at all. He struggles with it briefly before he presses the number four and letter C.

“Hello?” comes a deep, gruff voice through the speaker.

“Rhett!” Link exclaims excitedly and he feels like jumping up and down. His fingers are tingling, his heart is soaring, and he feels like he can't breathe. “Rhett, it's me! It's Link, oh gosh, Rhett. I need your help. I can't remember anything, I don't know what's happening and I just - ”

“Hello?” the voice goes again before the man on the other side sighs. “Listen, I didn't catch any of that. If you're here with my curry, buzz twice.”

Link hears the voice mutter a, “Stupid thing,” before buzzing twice. The loud sound of the gate opening alarms him, but he rushes in and takes the stairs up to the right floor. When he gets to apartment 4C, he stands tepidly.

He raises his fist to knock, but his wrist doesn't move. Link can feel his heart hammering in his chest. But he reminds himself that this is his best friend and quickly raps his knuckles against the wooden door.

The door opens a bit after a few moments and is stopped by a chain lock. “You're not Indian,” a bearded man observes slowly and looks at him, bushy brows furrowed.

Link’s heart skips a beat in his chest. He's going to pass out. “Rhett?” he nearly whimpers.

“Uh...yeah,” Rhett answers and Link lets out a heavy sigh of relief.

“Rhett, it's me! It's Link,” he informs him and expects Rhett to fling the door off its hinges, but instead, he receives a questioning look. 

“Link? Link Neal?”

“Yes, Rhett, oh my gosh, it's - ”

The door slams.

Link stands there in disbelief. He's at a loss for words and his mouth feels dry. He's on the cusp of thinking about all the water he _hasn't_ had that day when the sound of a chain and the door opening lures him back to reality.

His gaze drifts back up and he sees an actual _giant_ standing before him. Rhett is towering. Link felt so tall this morning, walking like Bambi on his brand new legs, but Rhett is _up_ _there_. Link takes in as much as he can without passing out in front of him; he takes in the beard and the hair standing high and wavy on his head, seemingly by itself. It looks so soft, and Link has the desire to run his hands through it.

Rhett looks so…good. He's so handsome and his beard is scruffy, but neat, kept in a way that makes Link’s knees weak for some unknown reason. Link takes a moment to breathe before he launches himself into Rhett’s arms and squeezes him tight.

Link’s head is barely tucked beneath Rhett’s chin, so he rests it there in the crook of his neck and holds for dear life.

“Um, come on in,” Rhett says, his voice rumbling in his chest against the side of Link’s face. Link hears the door close and he almost doesn't want to let go of Rhett, but he relents.

“Gosh, Rhett, I'm so happy to see you,” he sighs as they walk into the living room together. He sees photos all over the place and a smile tugs at his lips when he realizes they're all Rhett’s. “You still take pictures,” he notes, making a statement instead of asking a question. The photos are definitely better now than from when they were kids. Everywhere else, he sees stacks of DVDs and old VHS tapes.

“Yeah, videos too,” Rhett says. He drawls the words out and stops at one end of his couch. He looks at Link, confused. “Hey, Link, what - what are you doing here?”

Link glances back at Rhett. He frowns. “I just…something really _weird_ is going on, Rhett,” he starts and begins pacing the living room. It's an old habit he used to have, still has, whenever he was nervous or upset. He can't stop himself once he starts. “Yesterday - yesterday I was thirteen and today I'm not. I'm this!” he exclaims, motioning at his tall and lean body. “I need your help. I don't remember my life.” 

Rhett stares at him for a moment. Link can almost see the cogs cranking in his brain. “You want _my_ help?” Rhett finally asks.

“Yes,” Link answers swiftly. “I need you to help me figure out my life.” 

Rhett actually lets out a laugh. It's short and over too soon, but it's enough to get Link’s heart worked up. “I can't do that,” Rhett tells him.

“Why not?” Link asks, though, pout on his lips.

“Link, we don't…I don't know you. We’re not friends anymore.” 

Link’s heart drops. Throat closing up, he looks down and lets the questions gallop through his mind. What _happened?_  he thinks to himself and has to remember to breathe for a moment. If he isn't friends with Rhett anymore, then his entire life was royally screwed. He obviously wasn't talking to his parents anymore. His mother had remarried _again_ if this Rick guy was anything to go by. He had strange men in his apartment and was doing things to make his assistant scared of him.

He doesn't know who he is, and he isn't sure if he wants to find out.

“Hey, Link, calm down,” Rhett croons when he realizes that Link isn't _breathing_ properly. Link falls back onto the couch and grips the edge of it. His head is swimming all over again. He wants Rhett to slap him, pinch him, tell him this is all one elaborate prank. But none of it happens, and Link doesn't wake up.

It's in the distance, but Link can hear Rhett offering to help him home. Words of agreement leave his mouth before his brain can catch up, and it's almost like he's gone all over again.  

 

* * *

 

“Are you sure you're not on drugs?”

The two of them are walking in the streets of Los Angeles. Even though Link made many trips here as a kid, it still feels so foreign to him. He doesn't know the street names or the landmarks. All he knows is home, and it's not there. 

“I'm not on drugs,” Link insists. “Although that would probably be the better option right now.”

A hearty laugh erupts from Rhett’s throat. He peers down at Link, and Link can't believe how much has changed on him. He had always been tall, but he was scrawny too. That's why they worked so well together. If they were going to be scrawny and small, they may as well have been scrawny and small together. But now - now Rhett is thick; he's muscular and thoughts of what's underneath Rhett’s shirt creep into the back of his mind.

His stomach twists, and he shakes them off because it's too _weird_. He fell asleep longing after Christy and he woke up with who he _assumes_ to be a boyfriend in his apartment. He'd left his life behind without ever having thought about his sexuality because he was already programmed to be one thing: straight.

But now what was he supposed to think or do? With Rhett being as handsome as he is, the confusion puddles in Link’s stomach and he almost forgets to make conversation with Rhett as they walk. 

“I like your glasses,” Rhett says to break the silence. Link pushes said glasses up on his nose, and sighs.

Instead of thanking him, Link asks, “What happened to us?” 

The question comes out so small, so fragile, as if Link didn't want to shatter the atmosphere that's building around them suddenly. Link is so sullen. He can't imagine anything that could've happened unless…unless it was his fault.

“Link,” Rhett says, sighing. “Things happen. It's nothing now. It was so long ago.”

Link wants to press on, squeeze it out of Rhett and make him confess what had happened. But the tinge of pain in Rhett’s voice makes him stop.

“Okay,” he says, then, “what about you? How is your life?”

“Same old,” Rhett offers simply. “I went to school for film. Well, engineering, but I minored with film. I had joined a club in high school and thought, hey, I can do more with this dumb camera,” he added, shrugging. “I make short films here and there. Been trying to squeeze my way into the big leagues, but Hollywood is brutal.”

Link beams at this. “Hey!” he chimes happily. “ _I'm_ in the big leagues. I've got my own office and everything,” he tells him, and suddenly, he swells with pride. He hadn't thought about everything he does have now. It's everything he wanted, really. He's successful and good looking and he's got to have his name in the credits of a television show somewhere.

His chest inflates proudly because Link is a _somebody_ , and he didn't have to go through everything he wanted to skip anyway. 

“Yeah, I know,” Rhett tells Link. He looks down, stuffing hands into the pockets of his sweats. “I've seen your shows, it's…they're pretty amazing.”

Link's smile is radiant. He nudges Rhett’s shoulder and chuckles. “I'm sure yours is just as great. What do you do with it all? Do you keep them on VHS’ or DVDs and sell them or something?” He asks curiously.

Rhett's eyebrows fly up as he surveys Link curiously. “I - no. I upload them to YouTube.”

The confusion returns to Link and he swallows thickly, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. He has so many questions. Too many. But it's obvious that Rhett isn't up to the task of explaining it all to Link if they haven't seen each other in seventeen years, according to Rhett. The only reason he didn't kick him out was because of the panic attack Link was on the verge of having.

“This your place?” Rhett questions and looks up at the luxurious apartment complex.

“Yeah,” sighs Link, “this is where I live.”

They approach the door to the complex and Link doesn't want to touch it, afraid he'll be burned into never being able to see Rhett again if he didn't want to.

“Alright then,” is what Rhett says. Link crumbles. “Good luck.”

“Bye,” Link mutters.

“Bye,” Rhett responds. He turns on his foot and begins to walk away. Link's hand still hasn't touched the door and when it does, he croaks.

“Rhett?” He calls. The other man flies back around and stops in his tracks, waiting a beat for Link’s next words. “What's a YouTube?”

 

* * *

 

Rhett doesn't say it aloud, but Link thinks he believes him when he says that he doesn't remember the past seventeen years of life. 

He listens to him; he allows him to dig up a yearbook and look at everything that he'd gone through that was documented. Link is truly shocked by most things. 

Apparently, he was part of Gregg’s gang, he joined the varsity soccer team, and was even prom king with _Christy_ as his date. Link actually gasps when he sees that Gregg convinced him to bleach his hair at the end of senior year. 

“Everything is so different now,” Link observes in a bit of a daze. He runs his hands over his promo photo and smiles.

“Yep,” Rhett says simply. He's walking idly around Link’s apartment and taking everything in. Link is actually given the moment to do so as well, because he'd been too confused in the morning to realize how _nice_ the apartment actually is.

In the midst of it all, Link gets a call to confirm his ride to the party that night, and he happily does so.

He tells Rhett, “I got everything I ever wanted,” and doesn't realize the look on his face when he tersely replies, “Yeah, Link, you did. Congratulations.”

As they say goodbye at Link’s door, he invites Rhett to his party that night. He doesn't quite know if he's allowed to do that, but he supposes if he's a writer and producer, he's allowed to do whatever he wants. That's how it all works, isn't it?

Link takes the moment at the door to soak all of Rhett in. The telltale bags under Rhett’s eyes make Link want to sweep every ounce of tiredness away from him, and give him something to smile about. He wants to hold him, ask him about every detail of his life because in the back of his mind, he's more interested in that than learning about his own. 

Instead, he opens the door and lets Rhett step outside. Before Rhett can turn on his heel to walk away, Link goes, “Hey,” and holds out his hand.

“Yeah?” Rhett responds.

Link raises his brow, shaking his hand while one of his legs lifts up behind him. 

Rhett, however, doesn't do anything but nod and wave at him, so Link petulantly huffs. “ _Rhett._ ”

At this, Rhett smiles and takes his hand. Link sees one of his legs lift, and they balance on each other for a moment while their hands shake like they'd always done. Link smiles, and finally allows Rhett to go.

Link doesn't look away until the last bits of Rhett’s heel dip into the elevator and allows him to tear his eyes from where he was just walking.

The rest of it all feels like such a blur.

Link goes to the party; it's a complete dud with nothing but executives and corporate business people standing around and drinking whiskey.

 _Bye Bye Bye_ is the song that Link requests the DJ to play to liven the party. It does a great job when Rhett actually shows up, and Link drags him to the dance floor to strut their worries away the way *NSYNC did in that _amazing_ video.

But Rhett is gone as soon as he gets there. Link can see something in his eyes, even with everyone dancing around them, and it almost pains him having to watch Rhett walk away for the second time that day.

It doesn't stop Link from dancing, though, and he celebrates getting through the first day of _whatever_ this is. He thinks maybe he'll go to sleep that night and wake up in his closet, so he'll revel in whatever he can about getting everything he's wanted, even if it's just for a day.

Link wakes up just the same though.

He's still in a thirty year old man’s body, he still works for NBC, and he still has the responsibilities given to him the day before. That sinks in right away.

The wave of determination that flows through Link when he gets to work is new, but he works with it. He gets help from Stevie who, once again, seemed so wary to step into his office. 

But he assures her that he isn't going to yell at her, or fire her, and he sees her deflate right before his eyes. 

When the veil is lifted, she's quite useful to Link. She explains all the things he has to do before the deadline two weeks from then. She whispers something about the _C word_ , and Link asks, “Cancelled?” before Stevie hushes him and tells him not to mention it out loud.

Link also learns exactly about the show he's working on; it's a sitcom, a story about best friends fending off the world with nobody but each other. It seems vaguely familiar to Link.

Link is confined to his office all day long, working on scripts and making phone calls. When it gets too stuffy in it, he has Stevie open the door just long enough to filter in the comments of, “Neal is doing _work_?” and, “Who is he trying to fool?” from the people who pass and peek inside.

He ignores them, because he doesn't know what they quite mean, but they gnaw at the back of his mind for the rest of the day. 

Towards the end of one long day, him and Gregg go out for drinks. After the party the other night, Link comes to the conclusion that alcohol isn't _that_ bad and some drinks are actually worth swallowing. He enjoys a martini at the bar.

 When Gregg steps out for a smoke, he follows him like a puppy dog, refusing to be alone still.

It's outside where he hears his name and turns to see Rhett, so tall and gleaming, coming towards him.

A fire ignites inside of Link the way it did the first time he saw Rhett, the new one, and he perks up almost immediately. 

“Link, hey,” Rhett says, approaching him. “Look, I'm sorry about - ”

“Brett? McLaughlin, is that you?” Gregg pipes up from where he's taking a long drag of his cigarette. “Long time no see, man.”

“It's Rhett,” Link corrects for Rhett, exactly the way he _didn’t_ at his thirteenth birthday party, and glares at Gregg before turning back to Rhett. Gregg only throws his hands up defensively and takes another drag.

“Hey, Rhett,” Link says timidly. He stands in front of Rhett, trying not to feel so small next to him. It's nearly impossible. “It's okay. You don't have to apologize,” he adds sincerely.

“It was just - you know, work and stress and stuff. You know how it feels.”

Link wants to go, _no_ , I don't know how it feels. He wants to tell him he has no idea of what his life was like before this, so he doesn't know the burdens of stress and feeling like he's drowning under the pressure of it all.

But before he can, a short, dark haired woman is coming out of the place next door and bounding to Rhett’s side.

“Hello,” she greets kindly, offering Link, and even Gregg, the warmest of smiles. Her arm links with Rhett’s, and she pulls him close. 

“Hello,” drawls Link. He grins back at her before he sees a look on Rhett's face, the same look from the party and he reels in a frown.

“Link,” Rhett begins, and is interrupted by the woman’s, “Oh! You're Link! Rhett won't stop going on about you.”

Link swells. He knows it's hyperbole; there is no way Rhett has been talking about him non-stop, but the swell of his heart wants to believe so.

Flustered, Rhett goes, “Uh, yeah, well. Link, this is Jessie. She's - she's - ”

“His _fiancée_.” The woman, Jessie, holds out her hand where a diamond ring is perched on her finger. “Two weeks until the wedding,” she adds, giggling.

Link’s head begins to spin. Rhett is _engaged_. Processing this seems so far fetched to Link. But then he thinks _of course_ he's engaged. They're in their thirties and Rhett was bound to settle down some time. Link is surprised that he hadn't already. The taste of the truth in his mouth is bitter though, no sweetness detected whatsoever.

Forcing a smile, Link claps his hands and hums. “Wow, um, wow. Congratulations, you two,” he says, trying not to choke on the sound of his voice. 

A silence blankets over the group. Link doesn't know what to say or do and he wishes he could find another closet to tuck himself away into.

On cue, another voice is calling his name, and it makes his hairs stand up. He _recognizes_ it, but he doesn't process who it belongs to until he sees the naked man - clothed this time - prancing towards them.

“Is it couples night or something?” Gregg asks around his cigarette with a huff.

“Sweet cheeks,” the naked man laughs when he's close enough and a second later, he's tucking Link under his arm and pressing him into his side. “You've been avoiding me, babe. Definitely not nice.”

Link sputters, looking to Gregg for help, but he only shrugs and takes another puff of his cigarette. Overwhelmed, he turns to Rhett and Jessie, barely managing to say, “This - I - he,” before the naked man lets out another loud laugh. It's hearty and deep, but it's nothing compared to Rhett's.

“I know who you are,” Rhett says then, reaching out to shake the man’s hand. Link almost feels betrayed. “Matt Fletcher. I'm a Laker fan, but you are one hell of a Clipper’s player, man.”

A _Clipper’s player_. Link looks up at the man and he has to admit, he _is_ attractive. If, in this life, Link is attracted to men, especially professional basketball players, he'll take it.

Link inhales sharply. Rhett and Matt talk amongst themselves for a moment as Link tries to let it all sink in, and then a silence falls over them.

“So,” someone finally says after a few beats. Link thinks it might be Matt, but his brain is fried for the most part. “It was really lovely meeting you all, but I think I'm going to get my Linkypoo home with me.”

Before Link can protest, Gregg is agreeing wholeheartedly and Link had honestly forgotten he was _there_ , so how _dare he_. Everyone says their goodbyes and Link is whisked away on a jagged cloud.

 

* * *

 

The time with Matt isn't _that_ bad to Link. At least it wasn't until he tried to get him in bed. Before then, Matt was a genuinely nice guy and Link was starting to enjoy his company until he began speaking of cuddles and blowjobs and a good _fuck_ (“To ease our stresses,” he'd said nonchalantly). Link had to dart out the door to avoid _whatever_ was going to happen if he'd stayed there.

Link rushes home and he doesn't give himself the chance to think about the events of that night, popping a NyQuil or two before burying himself in the duvet of his bed.

Going back to work is a doozy. Link can sense how stressed and tense everyone is, and they all look at him oddly when he offers words of encouragement. 

Stevie explains to him how a similar sitcom at ABC is doing good, too good, and if they don't pick up their ratings for their season finale, it's going to end up a _series_ finale. Richard had mentioned something about doing something different, something unique that ABC certainly couldn't mimic.

Link is in the middle brainstorming alone in his office one day, and his phone rings.

“Hello,” he greets when he answers it, writing something down about Rhett without thinking.

“Link,” Stevie’s voice comes through, “Mark from editing’s wife, Christy, is here to see you.”

Brows furrowing, Link stalls for a second. He doesn't know a Mark from editing, let alone a Mark from editing’s wife, Christy. Perhaps he does, but of course he doesn't remember it. He tells Stevie to let her in anyway and looks up from his desk to see a blonde woman strutting in and oh _gosh._

It's such a familiar face and Link almost can't believe his eyes. It's _Christy_. _The_ Christy. Link actually smiles a bit and stands to greet her once the door has clicked shut.

“Oh my gosh, Christy, is that you - ”

Link is cut off by Christy launching herself into his arms and planting a big fat kiss onto his lips. He's more than taken aback; he's beyond _shocked_ and he stretches his arms to push her away.

“ _What_ ,” he chokes out.

Christy giggles. She rolls her eyes at him and tries to kiss him again. “Oh, Charles, come on,” she huffs when she can't reach his lips. “I haven't seen you in two weeks. I missed you.”

Link bites down another splutter of confusion. “What are you talking about?” he opts for instead, but he supposes it isn't much better.

“Playing hard to get then?” Christy titters, seduction in her eyes. “Come on, Linkypoo. I _missed_ you.”

The series of events leading up to this moment had all made Link’s brain flurry. But this, clearly having an affair with his high school sweetheart and _married_ woman has got to take the cake so far. He actually feels sick. Thirteen year old Link would've died for this moment, and he knows that inklings of thirteen year old Link are still there, but he also understands that he isn't thirteen anymore and this isn't some wet dream.

It's not a dream period.

So Link rushes out, ignoring Christy’s displeased calls and Stevie's concerned, “Link? Link, are you okay?” as he passes her desk.

To make everything worse, he hears murmurs of his name while he waits for the elevator down. It sounds like Gregg and someone else; they say things like, “When is he going to cut the fucking innocent act? We all know he's not going to do anything to save this damn show,” and, “We just have to wait for him crack and steal someone else's ideas again. You know he did that to Rhonda, and then _fired_ her. What a prick.” 

His chest feels so damn tight.

Link doesn't bother looking for his own driver and gets into a random Lincoln Town Car. He doesn't let the driver speaks and just gives him an address, saying he'll give him extra cash if he wants it.

In half an hour, he's at Rhett’s apartment building. He gets buzzed in and when he stands at Rhett’s open door, he doesn't hide the downtrodden expression he holds on his face.

“Is this becoming a habit?” Rhett questions teasingly. Link bears the hint of a smile, and shrugs.

“Want to go for a walk?” he asks docilely.

Rhett grabs a coat in response.

 

* * *

 

Walking together down the streets of Los Angeles brings a sense of comfort to Link. He feels warm and safe and like all the wild things that had happened to him so far couldn't reach him, not as long as he was by Rhett’s side.

“It's just all so…weird,” Link is telling Rhett, hands stuffed in his pockets as he looks down. He spots a caterpillar on the ground and wonders if it knows it should be longing to be a butterfly, free to whisk away at its own will.

He envies it.

“That's part of growing up, Link,” Rhett responds and Link catches him glance over from the corner of his eyes. He meets his gaze and smiles faintly.

“And look at you,” Link says then. “You're getting married and everything. It's so…”

“It's logical,” Rhett says before Link can continue. Link hums.

“How so?” he queries. Link knows Rhett; he knows that he _is_ quite logical, and that, even as a kid, he only did things if they made sense to him. 

“Well, when you're dating someone for nearly a decade, it's probably the right thing to do,” Rhett answers, laughing quietly. Link soaks it in.

“That's what you think?” Link asks him, then, “Is she your soulmate?”

Link himself wouldn't know what to say if he were asked a question like that. He wants to believe in something like that, honestly. It would bring him so much comfort knowing that there was someone made especially for him, and even if had to search for years, they'd end up finding each other and just _know_.

“I don't believe in that kind of stuff,” says Rhett. He scrunches up his nose and Link senses no point in telling himself he doesn't want to kiss it. “I love her, if that's what you're asking.”

“That's not what I'm asking,” Link rebuttals. They share a laugh; Link shakes his head. “I'm asking if…you think you're meant to be. If there's a part of you that believes you were brought together for a reason. Do you feel giddy around her? Goosebumps and everything?”

Rhett doesn't answer right away. He looks pondering and Link wants to reach up and brush away the creases between his brow with a kiss.

“I think…” Rhett starts, “it all just _happened._ I haven't been crazy over someone like that since high school. And even then it was sort of dumb; it was far fetched.”

Link stops them in the middle of the sidewalk. He turns to face Rhett, and sighs. “Rhett,” he says softly, voice small. “What happened to us? Why aren't we friends anymore?”

“Link - ”

“Please,” Link begs.

Rhett sighs, but he nods and looks down at his feet. “It was your thirteenth birthday party,” he starts, and Link bites back the urge to go _duh_. “Everyone had ditched and stole your step-dad’s beer. You blamed me and, well,” he huffs, “I tried playing you my birthday song, but you chucked the DVD I made you at my head and it bounced off the wall behind me and into the punch bowl. Then you said you never wanted to speak to me again, and you just...didn't. That's it.”

Link's throat clenches. His body seeps with guilt and he can't believe he ruined one of the only truly good things in his life, and for what? A life that he wasn't even truly content with?

“I'm so sorry, Rhett,” he tells him. His voice cracks with brewing tears.

“It was so long ago, Link,” Rhett says, but he doesn't say it's okay. Link knows it's because it's not.

“That doesn't excuse it,” Link argues. “I don't - I don't deserve any of this, Rhett. I don't deserve your kindness, I don't deserve this life. I don't talk to my mom anymore, I slept with a married woman, my assistant was _scared_ of me, and I just - I wanted to grow up so bad. Yet here I am, and I don't know the first thing about acting my age. I wanted to be _somebody_. Now I'm just somebody terrible.”

Rhett goes to speak, but Link doesn't let him. His feet are moving before his brain has the opportunity to catch up.

“Link!” Rhett is calling out for him, but all Link can do is run. All he ever seems to do is run, and the revelation punches him in the gut. If all he can do is run and avoid things without ever going where he wants to, then what was the point of longing anymore?

Link runs all the way back to Thousand Oaks. He takes the Metro and lets himself cry on the train. When he gets there, he lets himself in with the key he knows his mother kept in a pot near the door.

The house is cold and empty, but the timing is all too perfect, because Link is only there for an hour and a half before his mother is hauling in luggage with whom he assumes to be Rick. Link hurls himself at Sue without giving her the opportunity to realize what's happening.

“Link?” she mutters quizzically.

Link doesn't answer. Instead, he cries.

 

* * *

 

Sue doesn't make Link explain right away. She waits until the next morning, which Link is so grateful for, to even ask what's got his mind in a wringer.

“I just feel very…alone,” Link tells her truthfully and pokes around at the pancakes she so graciously made him. Even though it hasn't been as long to him as it was to her, Link misses his mother so deeply.

“Well I've got ears, love, go ahead and talk them off,” Sue offers, smiling faintly at her son.

“Do you - do you ever wish you could turn back time?” Link questions her. He looks up at her then, frown on his lips. “Like, do you regret doing something you wish you could change?”

Sue hums, clearly in thought before she smiles and shakes her head. “No,” she tells him. “I don't.”

“Why not?” Link croaks.

“Because it doesn't quite work that way, dear.” Sue sighs. She sips on the cup of coffee she has before looking at her son with sincere eyes. “But also because we'd never learn if things were that easy. You can't learn from mistakes if you never make them.”

Link mulls over her words and lets out a small huff. He wonders where he'd be if he'd never went off at his thirteenth birthday party, if he'd just let everything be and stuck with Rhett by his side. He wonders if everything would be fine if he'd just learned to be content with what he had.

“I - I love you, mom,” Link breathes then. His eyes shine with tears. “I'm sorry for not calling more often.”

Sue puts her hand over Link’s and just hums. It's enough to put Link’s mind at ease.

Link does something nice for once; he only helps his mother clean up, but he gives her the company she'd been missing for so long. She had her new husband, which Link asks too many questions about, but she didn't have her son, and it left a twinge of pain in her heart to know it.

Link apologizes a thousand times, and Sue presses a thousand and one kisses to his forehead.

When Link returns to work, he's determined, and he glares daggers at Gregg the next time he sees him. He hopes he can feel the bitterness in his stare.

Working with Stevie again, he realizes that something might be missing. They rewatch old episodes of their show together in his office and Link doesn't know how he could work on something he didn't purely enjoy himself.

It is generic and cliché. Link wants to see life and genuine characteristics in the people they've written. All he sees is cookie cutter characters, but as if the cookie cutter they used was still a circle. The cookies came out the same way they would have if they'd just scooped the dough with a spoon.

Stevie offers the idea of, maybe, making it more realistic. Making it something that viewers could relate with while still making it a lighthearted sitcom could surely work.

“Like, lesbians and stuff,” Stevie says, laughing as she points out two of the main character’s tendencies to be close and loving with one another. “And people seeing their best friend in these characters. Not just people on a television screen. These people don't exist, but if we took _real_ people and their lives, and incorporated them in this…it could be good, right?” 

Link looks at Stevie fondly. She seems to have so much passion for this and he hates that the old him confined her to a cubicle, fetching him coffee and writing down his messages.

“Stevie,” he says. “Have you ever thought about, you know, doing what I do?”

She stalls for a moment, tucking her hair behind her ear and shrugging. “Sometimes,” she murmurs, but Link looks into her eyes and sees that she really means, “Every single day.”

“What if…” Link trails, quickly writing something down and looking at Stevie, “what if I put in a good word for you. If everything works out the way we want it to, I can tell Richard you deserve an office like me. I - I know it doesn't quite work that way, but I suppose if I show them how hard you worked with me, it has to do something. You deserve more than a cubicle.”

When Stevie beams, Link’s chest swells and for the first time, he feels _good_ about something he's done here. He plants the sticky note he wrote on at the corner of his computer and smiles widely. “There. It's my reminder to talk to Richard, okay? I won't forget.”

Stevie thanks him over and over, but Link insists there's no need for it. After all she's done, he owes her this. It's the least he can do.

 

* * *

 

Link finds himself at Rhett’s door again.

This time, it's on purpose, because he knows that he won't be able to help Stevie’s vision come true without him. Rhett never wanted to fit in; he was okay with being different and Link now admires him for it, even if thirteen year old him didn't frankly care for that attitude.

So when Rhett opens his door, Link gleams and ignores the puzzled look on Rhett’s face.

“Hello?” Rhett says, and Link just laughs.

“How would you feel about being hired by NBC for a week or so?” he asks, and it seems so nonchalant. It must take Rhett aback a bit, because he sputters for a moment.

“I'm sorry, what?” he finally says and laughs incredulously.

“I need your help,” Link informs him, handing over an envelope. “That's the first half of your check, if you decide you actually want to do this. I'm trying something different to present to the studio for one of our shows. And I just - I know your stuff is great. I want your name on this.”

At this, Rhett actually _radiates_. A smile grows beyond his scruffy beard and Link’s stomach twists with joy. “Link, you don't have to do this,” Rhett tells him, still in a bit of awe.

“I'm asking _you_ to do this for _me_ ,” Link emphasizes and shakes his head. “I looked up your stuff on that website you told me about. It's so great? Your filming is amazing and you bring your ideas to life so well. I need you.”

With that, Rhett agrees, and a long week of work goes underway.

They work on the script first, Rhett sitting with Link and Stevie in his office as they stay there until the late of night, after everyone else is long gone.

Link sometimes sees Gregg look in as he passes, and smirks because he's _finally_ proving him wrong. Whatever friendship they'd supposedly had over the past few years wasn't real, and Link knew that. But it was all okay. He was learning to be happy with some things.

From the script, they go to filming it, and this is where Rhett excels. He suggests that they remove themselves from the stuffy confines of the studio set and test out the real world for a change. If it's going to be realistic, he supposes that stepping away from fake sets would be the way to go. Link is nervous, but he agrees, and lets Rhett do what he believes is best.

Watching Rhett work is magical for Link. He becomes so invested in whatever he's doing, and something dances in his eyes. Link can't quite put his finger on whatever it is, but he loves it, and it makes his heart spin. Rhett will stick the tip of his tongue out in concentration, and does do a certain laugh when something goes his way. It's so _endearing_ , and Link wants to tuck him away, keep everything for himself.

Filming takes about a week and a half, but by the end of it all, they've got an amazing episode demo that he hopes Richard will go with so they can truly perfect it for television.

Link is ecstatic about it all. They have a few days before the board meeting about their pitches, so Rhett and Link decide to take a break from all the hard work they'd been doing.

They're sitting in Link’s living room, watching back their finished product of the episode and swelling with pride. 

“It looks amazing, Rhett,” Link sighs happily and picks up a container of Chinese takeout from his coffee table. He has his knees tucked up to his chest and watches Rhett pick up a fortune cookie, inspecting it closely. “Never seen a fortune cookie before, Bo?” he teases.

Rhett seems to twitch at the pet name, but he just laughs and rolls his eyes at Link. “They're just never worth reading,” says Rhett.

“What? They're so fun,” Link argues, huffing and taking a bite from his container. “Read one,” he requests around a mouth full of chowmein. 

“No way,” Rhett scoffs. He looks back at Link, shaking his head.

“Come on, Rhett, just read one. It won't hurt you,” he chuckles and gives him a pair of puppy dog eyes and a wide smile.

When Rhett’s expression crumbles and he tears open the package, Link grins even wider. He watches him crack the cookie and pull out the slip of paper from inside. “Go on then,” he pushes. “Read it.”

“Hold on.” Rhett laughs his signature laugh, the one that's been making Link feel more and more things ever since he first showed up at Rhett’s door. Link puts his container down and lets his head rest on the peaks of his knees as he waits patiently for Rhett.

“When in doubt,” Rhett begins slowly, “let your instincts guide you.”

After this, they look at each other, and for some reason, Link feels something tugging at his heart.

Something swims in Rhett's eyes and Link can detect it as long as he doesn't look away. But in this universe, and the next, and the next, he can't, and wouldn't ever want to.

He finally sees what it is though. Every ounce of him wants to believe that it's love, and desire, and longing. There isn't a bone in Link’s body that doesn't want it to be for him.

Heart drumming in his chest, Link breathes quietly, the sound of it tapping at the fragile glass environment engulfing them. A mix of sleepiness, desire, and pure admiration courses through his body, nibbling at his bones. It feels like years, but Link knows it's only mere moments that they're sitting there.

“Rhett,” he says, voice barely a whisper, but Rhett still hushes him. He's inched closer now, and Link’s legs have dropped from the couch.

Link can't hear the television anymore. The only sounds he wants to hear are the sound of their breathing and the voice of his heart telling him to _get closer, closer, closer…_

When it happens, everything comes to screeching halt. Rhett's the one to close the gap between them, a gap that felt like a canyon to Link. He tenses and melts all at once. The feeling of Rhett's lips on his own makes Link’s bones shift to jelly. The only thing his brain can think of is the way their lips slot together so perfectly, the burn of Rhett’s beard, but the soft touch of his hand when it comes to cup Link’s cheek.

They kiss; they fit together so easily. Link's hands come up to the tufts of Rhett's neck hair and he runs them through it slowly, craning him closer for a deeper kiss.

Although none of this is practical, Rhett being engaged and Link being taken himself, it's perfect. His heart can't deny that as it opens the floodgates of feelings and memories. Link knew, somewhere in the box at the back of his mind, this was bound to happen.

After all the somersaults his heart had done around Rhett, the fond glances, and subtle touches, he knew. He knew it wasn't just platonic infatuation. The kiss that is making him float tells him just that.

Behind all the bliss, Link feels so _selfish_. He seems to be taking and taking and taking. He's gotten everything he's wanted, yet somehow manages to want and take something that he can't have. He kicks the feelings down into a pit, though, because he feels so content here, right in the moment.

Ages later, the two of them finally part, and Link’s mind can only beg for this to not be a dream.

He drifts back down to earth and opens his eyes to see Rhett’s staring back at him. They don't speak. Instead, Link shifts and leans on Rhett, his head instinctively taking place in the crook of Rhett’s neck. He drapes his arm across Rhett’s stomach, holding onto him with a gentle vice.

As his hands brush Rhett’s arms, he's clear of one thing: goosebumps.

Silence accompanies them, but it's just the right kind of silence, and Link doesn't think he'll be able to think straight for days anyway.

 

* * *

 

Link is sitting nervously in the boardroom with Stevie by his side. Gregg’s gone and presented his own idea pitch. Link may be biased, but he tells himself that it was nowhere near as good what him, Stevie and Rhett had stirred up. 

It's pretty evident that Richard and the others believe so as well, because they don't have much of a reaction to Gregg’s pitch. They politely tell him good job, but that's mostly it. Link feels more and more confident by the second, and he smirks when Gregg storms out of the room with a huff. 

Despite the extra boost of confidence, Link still wobbles with nerves as he stands at the head of the room. 

“Hello,” he nearly squeaks. He clears his throat. “So, I, uh. I took a bit of an extra step with this. It's not like what we're used to. It's just that - we yearn for ratings and views and people to love our show. But what are we doing to _actually_ cater to them?”

Link goes on about their characters and how they don't feel _real_. He even admits he was never quite fond of watching their show back because he couldn't see himself any of the characters, and if he couldn't, how could they expect their viewers to?

He pours his heart into his speech before showing the episode he'd created with two amazing people. He watches on nervously, trying to gauge their reactions. By the time he's done, he thinks he sees tears in Richard’s eyes.

A silence draws over them for a moment, and Link is scared, but the next second, Richard is giving him a round of applause and the others in the room join along. Link soars, an unimaginably wide smile on his lips as he hugs Stevie and accepts his congratulations.

But the only thing that's on Link’s mind is _Rhett_. As soon as he can, Link is out of the building and making his way back to Rhett’s. He feels so giddy and Link can't wait to tell him the good news.

When he knocks on the door, he's smiling widely, until the door actually opens and reveals someone who isn't Rhett. Link thinks it's a stranger before he remembers it's not, and his heart sinks.

It's Jessie, Rhett's _fiancée._ Up until then, Link had barely remembered her. He'd been so caught up in his own feelings for Rhett and Rhett's possible, plausible, feelings for him.

“Oh, Link!” Jessie says so happily that Link feels the guilt pooling in his stomach. “How are you?”

“Hello, I'm - I'm doing great, actually. Is Rhett around?” Link asks. He doesn't ask how Jessie is doing because to himself, it's evident he has no regard for her feelings anyway.

“Oh, no,” Jessie tells him, pouting. “He's out getting his tux. He's so forgetful sometimes, I mean, _hello_ , the wedding is _tomorrow_ ,” she giggles fondly. Link swallows down the vile taste in his mouth. Rhett is getting married tomorrow. “Is there something you needed?”

Link forces himself to speak. “Uh, not really? I just wanted to let him know the good news about our episode,” he says.

“Oh! Well, I'll let him know you stopped by, okay?” Jessie says so sweetly. Link wants to hug her, tell her how lucky she is to have Rhett, or more of how lucky Rhett is to have her. She obviously loves him and, for once in his life, he feels the need to not be selfish.

Link bids adieu. He leaves quite sullenly. He aches for Rhett and wants to know if he wants him just as bad as him, but, of course he doesn't. He's still expecting a wedding. A wedding that doesn't involve Link.

After all this time, all the internal battling, Link knows how much Rhett truly means to him. He realizes the truth and harm in the fact that now, Rhett being his best friend isn't enough for him.

Link is selfish, and he knows it. But he can't help it when it comes to Rhett.

He manages to live another day. In his office, Link’s preparing to pitch his idea to corporate so they can get the green light to film their actual finale, perfect everything. He wishes Rhett were with him. He wishes he weren't setting up a backyard wedding.

But before the meeting can go underway, Gregg barges into his office, eyes filled with mirth.

“Well, well,” he says. Link scoffs.

“What are you doing here?” Link spits venomously.

“I could honestly be asking you the same thing.”

Confusion drafts over Link. “Listen. I'm preparing to meet with corporate, so if you could _please,_ ” he says, motioning towards the door.

“Oh, no,” Gregg laughs bitterly. “That's going to be you once Richard finds out what you've done.”

“What?”

“Stop with the _act_ , Charles,” Gregg sneers. He pulls out envelopes from the inside of his blazer and huffs. “I found these babies in your desk.”

“You went through my things?” Link says accusingly. He doesn't know what's happening; his heart is racing.

“Boo hoo, arrest me,” Gregg deadpans, rolling his eyes. “These look familiar? You know, I shouldn't have expected anything less from you, Neal. And while selling our ideas and giving ABC a heads up on whatever we had planned seems like a great idea, I'm going to use this to _ruin_ you all because I didn't think of it first. Now Richard is going to know how they always have the upper hand. And you're going to be out of a job.”

Blood rushes to Link’s head. He heats up and his chest tightens with every word Gregg is saying. He didn't _know_. He would've never known and Link truly feels sick.

“I - I didn't - ” he sputters and Gregg just groans.

“Cut the shit, Link! You're over. Kiss whatever this is you have here goodbye,” he says. It's so sinister and rough, and Link feels the hot blades of his words running across his skin. “This is what you get for only caring about yourself, selfish _asshole_.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the sticky note he put on his computer.

_Stevie is an awesome assistant!! She'd make a greater producer and writer, so TELL RICHARD!_

His heart sinks.

“You can't do this,” Link chokes out.

“I can, and I will.”

With that, Gregg is gone, leaving Link to melt in his own self-pity. He doesn't know what he's done, but it's too late to erase any of now. He wonders how he's royally fucked up and his stomach churns unpleasantly.

The worst part of it all is Stevie. Without Link, she'll be without a way up. He's certain she can do it if she works hard, but with so much talent and ability, she doesn't deserve to wait years to make it. She doesn't deserve to have a job that doesn't let her reach her full extent.

Link can't bear the guilt. When he runs, yet again (he can't keep count at this point), he only offers Stevie a look of apologies and grief. She looks confused and she opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Link wouldn't be able to handle it if she did speak.

Everywhere seems so toxic to Link. He doesn't want to go home and see the couch where he and Rhett kissed. He has no more office, he has no where he feels safe. The only place he knows he'd feel better is in Rhett's arms, and - well.

Link grants himself the right to be selfish one more time the moment he hops on the Metro. He has hours to think of what to do on the train. He can go to his own home, and cry into his old bed, or sneak next door and dramatically stop a wedding, revealing to the world how he can never be content with anything unless it makes him happy.

He curses whoever made it so he didn't realize Rhett truly made him happy until it was too late. Seventeen years too late.

Thousand Oaks seems so far away, but he makes it, and the moment he's outside his and Rhett's adjacent homes, none of it feels real. Thirteen years ago he was sitting in the basement of his own home, shouting at Rhett about how he hated him, and breaking both of their hearts at the same time.

Except that, to Link, it was only a few weeks ago, and in that time, Rhett had managed to grasp his heart and burrow his way into it, taking up a permanent residency.

But Link sees Rhett’s heart, and it's in the wedding being set up in his backyard.

He tries desperately to find himself, and chokes when he can't.  

Link manages to sneak inconspicuously into Rhett's home, past his own mother and both Rhett and Jessie’s families. He stands outside of Rhett's door, breathes, and lets himself in.

When he sees Rhett, his breath catches in his throat. He's in his tux, half of it, at least. He's missing his blazer and his bow tie is undone, draped around his neck. He looks shocked to see Link, but his eyes are still soft.

“Hi,” Link musters softly.

“Hey…” Rhett responds. They take a moment to soak it all in.

“Rhett, you look…” Link desperately searches for the words to say, but they get lodged in his throat. He wishes he could scream them.

“Link…what are you doing here?”

Link wishes he had the right answer. He wishes he could just whisk the two of them away into the life he thinks they both deserve. But he can't.

“Listen, Rhett, I just - ” Link starts and forces his voice not to betray him this time around. “I need you to understand something. That person I was - the terrible person _I know_ I was, that wasn't me. And I…I have to believe that if you knew that,” he chokes, “if you _truly_ knew that, you wouldn't be marrying someone today unless - unless that someone were me.”

The same silence from the night they kissed drapes over them, but this time, it burns Link, and it's deafening.

Breathing in deeply, Rhett sighs and stuffs his hands into the pockets of his pants. “Link,” he says softly, so gentle and soothing. Link wants to wrap himself in Rhett's voice for comfort. “I can't lie to you. I've felt so many more things with you in the past weeks than I have in _years._ Things I didn't know my heart could feel anymore.” Link remembers the goosebumps. “But we can't - you can't just turn back time, Link.”

“Why not?” Link asks, voice thick with sorrow.

“I moved on,” Rhett tells him and Link can't deny that it stings anymore. “You moved on. We went our separate ways, made different choices,” he says, then, with a deep sigh, “I chose Jessie.”

Link can feel his eyes beginning to burn. The ache in his heart is more prominent than ever, and he doesn't realize a tear has descended down his cheek until Rhett goes, “Please don't cry, Link,” with a strain in his own voice.

Link shakes his head and rubs furiously at his cheek. “I'm okay,” he insists and backs towards the door. He can barely look at Rhett, terrified of the breakdown he may have if he does. “I am just so - so happy for you. You deserve this and so much more, Rhett. You deserve happiness,” he says. “I love you, Rhett. You're my best friend.”

Placing his hand on the doorknob, Link tells himself over and over that he has to leave. He is going to when he hears Rhett call his name, and when he looks back, he sees a sad sincerity in his eyes.

“Link, I've always loved you,” is what Rhett says. Link can't stand it.

With a heavy heart, he leaves and finds himself back next door. His feet lead him to the basement. Everything has changed but there, pressed against the wall, were the bean bag chairs they had as kids.

He sees Rhett's named etched onto one of them, and he drags it into the closet with him. It's still dusty and it's still dark. His heart feels at ease here, in the worst way possible.

As he curls into the bean bag, Link reminisces on all the good he once had. The good he took for granted. 

If he could turn back time, he'd go back and appreciate what he never got the chance to.

Link hears the wedding march from the small window at the top of the basement wall, and his heart wrenches.

Despite his grief, he meant it when he told Rhett he was happy for him. It was time for him to stop looking out for only himself. Rhett has a life to look forward to. He has happiness and a new wife and family to grasp onto, and just because Link wasn't a part of that, didn't mean he was going to be unhappy about it.

Link's self-centered life was a mistake; now it was time to learn from it.

With a drooping heart, heavy with ache and love for Rhett all at the same time, he realizes there's nowhere left to run, and falls asleep with his heart pressed against Rhett’s name.

 

* * *

 

When Link wakes up, it's to the sounds of footsteps on the basement stairs. He thinks it's his mother.

But when Link tries to move, there's no more bean bag underneath him and he opens his eyes to realize there's something over them. It's a blindfold.

His dreary mind can't catch up fast enough, and as soon as it begins to, the closet door is being opened.

He rips his blindfold off and looks up to see a lanky, familiar boy that makes his heart soar.

“Rhett!” Link shouts and shoots up from the ground, knocking Rhett down to the floor and holding him tight. Rhett lets out a shocked _hmph_ and groans under Link’s weight.

“Link? What the heck? You're going to give me back problems,” Rhett huffs and Link pulls his head back to grin at him widely.

Instead of replying, he plants a kiss on Rhett’s lips, soaking in the way his body tenses, but melts directly after, just the way Link’s had on the couch in that apartment. Or the way it _hadn’t._

Link is thirteen again. He hasn't told Rhett he hates him, or to never speak to him again. He's just thirteen and nothing has gone wrong yet.

“What - what was that?” Rhett croaks when Link finally pulls back, giggling at him.

“That was me choosing you,” Link says sweetly. Although Rhett doesn't know what it means, Link knows he will one day, and it's enough to make Link kiss him again.

 

* * *

 

Link doesn't have a lot, but Rhett gives him enough. It's exactly what he needs.

They build a life together and Link is the one who suggests they upload videos to that _YouTube_ thing when it finally exists. Rhett croons at the idea, and they work together on something they love, making skits and short films.

Link falls in love with Rhett more and more everyday; he falls in love with the way he holds a camera, the way he sleeps, and the way he loves him so unconditionally.

Link is content.

In 2012, when they start a morning show on YouTube, Link knows this is where he wants to be. Five years later, Link has managed to find Stevie and hire her as their executive producer. It's not a network job, but she seems happy, and it's enough to warm Link’s heart.

On the day of their wedding, Link does Rhett's bow tie for him, because he _knows_ Rhett can't.

Link sits besides Rhett at the table with their wedding party and _beams_ at the camera, Rhett's camera, in front of them.

“We got married today,” Rhett says to the camera, a wide grin behind his beard. Underneath the table, their hands are locked together and Link is sure they are both experiencing the same feeling; it's goosebumps.

Laughing, Link squeezes his hand. “Let’s talk about that,” he finishes and their wedding party cheers with glee.

Link knows that, as Rhett serenades him with his Gibson and a song he'd written just for him, or as they take their wedding photos (signature pose and all), there's nothing else he could want.

  
This is enough for Link, and it always will be.

**Author's Note:**

> extra pairings i couldn't be bothered to put in: rhett/jessie  
> link/omc  
> link/christy  
> this fic begins w them being 13/14 in 2000! also the only reason i didn't set the year this begins in 1991 is because i am weak and fickle.  
> it's also set in Los Angeles due to. you know. stuff. but to keep a bit of their original lives, rhett is still born in georgia and link in north carolina. fiction is a wonderful thing. 
> 
> anyways! im @rhettmclaughiin on twitter/@rrhink on tumblr!
> 
> if you happen to see any spaces out of place (ie . ") please let me know. something went wacky w the formatting and i tried to fix most of it, but i might've missed some! thx!
> 
> thank you so much for reading!! kudos and comments are very well appreciated ♥️


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